Always
by Gcc
Summary: A month after the war, Ron and Hermione are still sorting through some feelings. Bad summary, sorry!
1. Chapter 1

"Hermione?" Ron whispered as he slowly eased open the door of the room Hermione shared with Ginny at the Burrow. Ginny was currently with Harry in Ron's room, and that was just not where Ron wanted to be. He tried to push the horrible imagery from his head. Ron could make out the outline of her soft form underneath her heavy quilt.

She wasn't expecting him. But he couldn't think of anywhere to go. He missed her. It had been a month since the last battle at Hogwarts, and no one had really accomplished anything. Everyone simply mourned the loss of Fred, Tonks, and Lupin. What truly startled Rn was how nothing had changed. He would find himself forgetting that they were gone, for hours at a time. He felt guilty, yet, relieved. He knew they would have wanted the survivors to carry on without them. They would expect it. He would expect it, if it were him.

But one thing had changed, a very large, important thing. His and Hermione's relationship. She had kissed him that day, when they didn't know if they were going to live or die. She regretted it, obviously. She never talked to him anymore, never looked his way. She ought to have kissed Harry, but she loved Ginny, and despite what feelings she had for him, she would never do that. And so Ron had tried to convince himself that it was fine, that he could carry on admiring her from a distance as he had always done. But it was different than before, something had changed. And he found he couldn't keep away.

And so here he was, at God knows when in the morning, sneaking into her bedroom. He strode to the bed clumsily, his large feet making it hard to be stealthy. He prayed she wouldn't wake up as he slid onto the bed next to her. As the bed creaked and moaned to adjust to his added weight, she stirred beside him. He tried to freeze but she drew her body against his in her sleep, and his breathed hitched. She was very, very close to him. She laid her head on his chest, and slung her arm over his stomach, simultaneously hitching one of her legs over both of his. He stayed still, trying his hardest not to move. This was not what he had imagined happening. He had thought he would watch her sleep for a while, and slip back to his room before she knew that he was there. He desperately tried to think of a way to eradicate himself without waking her.

"Stay," she murmured against his chest. Was she awake? It didn't matter. He would. He put his arm around her, pulling her closer.

"Always."


	2. Chapter 2

Why was she so warm? Even her heaviest quilts couldn't make her this warm. She didn't mind though. It was nice.

She snuggled deeper against the thing beside her, deciding to go back to sleep. What was that thing?

She opened her eyes, squinting against the harsh light streaming in from the window on the other wall. She lifted her eyes to the face above her. Was that Ron? She immediately felt a flush run all over body. Yes that was him. His face was slack in sleep, and she resisted the urge to run her fingers along his slumbering face to trace the intricate patterns of freckles scattered all along his skin. The rising sun, cast a glow on his fiery hair, and she immediately felt confused. Had she gone into his room? No, this was her bed. She didn't remember him coming in. Maybe he had had a nightmare. But why would he come to her? He obviously didn't want anything to do with her. She felt like an idiot, going and kissing him like that. She had been so sure he felt the same way about her, but she had been wrong.

She remembered how ridiculously excited she had been, thinking he would come to her to once it was all over, but she had been left wanting. When she finally had seen him, he wouldn't even meet her eye. How mortified she had been!

No matter what, she wouldn't make the same mistake again. She slid quickly from under his arm and rolled off the bed, and scurried downstairs in her pajamas. She didn't know what she had been expecting to happen, but she was slightly disappointed that he didn't come after her, asking her to stay, and kissing her like she had imagined he would so many times.

But no. She padded, forlorn, into the kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee as she say Harry at the table, poring over the morning Prophet. She was surprised to see him out of bed. He had shut himself away more than anyone else, hardly talking to anyone but Ginny, and then they hardly talked at all, mostly snogged.

"Hey," she whispered, running her hand along his tense shoulders, and peering at what he was reading. "What's that?"

"Another editorial on us." There were so many now. Nearly everyday they were mentioned somehow. He folded the paper wearily, and slid his hand behind his glasses to rub his tired eyes. "Hermione, what on earth are we going to do?" she sat in the chair closest to him, putting an understanding hand on his shoulder. "All I know his school and fighting...Voldemort." He said the name warily, as if saying it might bring him right back.

"Well," she said, not sure herself, "we have all of next year to find out. We need our degrees to be able to anything. Don't you still want to be an Auror?"

"Yeah," he said, not sounding entirely convinced. "You're right. As usual."

She chuckled as she sipped her coffee, and slid the Prophet closer to her and flicked it open easily, her thoughts still with Ron on her bedroom upstairs.


	3. Chapter 3

Ron groaned, rolling over, suddenly surprised by the emptiness beside him. He sat up, startled. Where was Hermione? He cursed loudly. He had hoped he wake up before her, and be able to slip out without her knowledge. She must think he was disgusting, crawling into her bed while she was asleep. What a creep he must be! He tore from off the bed, realizing he had slept in his shoes and jeans. What did he do? Act like nothing had happened? Apologize?

He would decide based on her reaction. Maybe she would actually...be alright with it? Maybe even happy? He hoped so, but tried desperately not to get his hopes up, right at the moment she was doing the same, a floor below him.

Most of the house was awake by now, he could hear laughter floating up the stairs from the kitchen, along with the intoxicating smell of bacon. He was famished.

He rumbled down the creaky stairs, taking a breath before entering the kitchen. He was instantly aware of where she was sitting, which was right next to Harry, and ultra sensitive of where her small hand was. Sitting on his shoulder. Ron tried to shake it off, but it just seemed so...intimate. Where was Ginny when he needed her? He took a plate from his mother at the stove, and stiffly walked to sit by her. He dragged a chair beside her, making the three of them into what was like a semi circle. Harry smiled at him, but Hermione kept her eyes on the few dregs of coffee left in her cup, a blush creeping up her neck.

Ron, emboldened by jealously, laid his hand on her back directly below her neck, exposed by her tank top. He could feel her jump under his fingers, and she took her hand from Harry's arm, and looked at Ron, her surprise obvious on her face, before glancing back at her coffee cup.

"I'll getcha some more," he said shortly, taking her cup and rising. He hoped she couldn't see the red overpowering his face. He could feel her eyes on him, and hoped he wasn't walking like he was nervous, because he certainly was.

When he returned, he handed her her coffee, and just as she was taking a sip, he took her free hand in one of his, and brought it to rest on his thigh. She didn't pull away, he noticed with relief. He rested his free arm on the table, and attempted to be cool as he made small talk with Harry as he drew circles on the soft flesh of Hermione's hand with his thumb. She smiled at him brightly, which he decided to take as a good sign.


	4. Chapter 4

It was night again. It was amazing how the days were passing so quickly, with no interruption. They were so used to the turmoil of war, it was hard to settle back into real life.

Ginny was in Harry's room again, so Hermione laid on her bed alone, in the approaching darkness. She felt her heart flutter at every creak outside of her door, thinking it might be Ron. She was so confused. He had held her hand during breakfast, and yet had ignored her the rest of the day. He had held her in his arms last night, and made no explanation of himself, no mention of it.

How was it that she could do everything she set her mind to, understand every book, every riddle, but the one thing she could never attempt to understand, was that damn Ronald Weasly.

Again her breathe hitched in her throat as she heard footsteps approach her door. They never left, only paced back and forward in front of her door. After about five minutes, she simply couldn't take it anymore, and threw back her blankets and sprung to her feet. She made it to her door in two quick steps, and wrenched it open to see a very dissolved looking Ron Weasly, who paused mid pace to look at her. His eyes opened wide in fear and embarrassment, and it was startling to see how quickly he could go red. It was all just so confusing.

"Ronald Weasly, what the devil are you doing?"

A/N I realize this is super duper short. Its just hard, cuz I wanna change the POV with each chapter, and I wanna change the POV a lot


	5. Chapter 5

Ron felt his face flush a deep red. Yes, what exactly was he doing? He had come to her room again tonight when Ginny had joined Harry, but this time she might be awake. And she obviously was. And God, was she beautiful. Her wild hair had been pulled back in a loose bun that was now coming loose. Her pink, full lips looked so enticing, and her skin so soft. Damn, what kind of a chance did he stand against this...woman? Because truly, she was a woman now.

"I, uh, well... Ginny's in my room." what kind of answer was that?

"Oh." they stood there for a while, and the awkward silence seemed like a presence, and Ron began to panic. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

"So...um, do you, I mean, need...sleep with me again to tonight?" the question seemed to tumble from her lips of their own accord, and she stood, nervously biting into her lip, looking as though she would like to snatch them back from the air in which they now hung.

He felt a chill go through him at the very idea of him holding her in his arms again, with her consent this time. Also, a much, much dirtier thought accompanied that one and he tried to shove it to the back of his mind. But damn, it was hard.

"Uh, yeah, definitely." he said, trying not to sound altogether to eager.


End file.
